The Bridal Path: Sara

by Sherryl Woods

  “That’s not my problem,” he repeated defensively. “Fifteen years of watching my mother and father try to destroy each other under the guise of commitment was more than enough. I’ll take bachelorhood over that any day and anyone who knows me at all is aware of that.”

  Annie’s expression turned momentarily sympathetic. “From everything you’ve said and a lot more you haven’t, I know it wasn’t easy for you growing up around those two, but you shouldn’t let it shape your whole life.”

  “Whose genes are running through my blood?” he countered. “I’ve got a double dose of the worst temperaments this side of hell. I’m not going to inflict myself on some unsuspecting woman so that we can both be miserable.”

  “You might be surprised how your view of life changes with the right woman around,” Annie said. Her expression softened. “Sue Ann wasn’t that woman.”

  “And you just told me to stay away from Sara.”

  “She’s not the right woman, either,” Annie said fiercely. “But there’s one out there for you. I guarantee it. You just have to open your heart and let her in, once she shows up.”

  “You’re nothing but a soft-hearted romantic,” Jake accused affectionately. “Next thing you’ll be saying there’s a woman out there who could put up with Trent Wilde, now that he’s been spoiled all these years by you and his wife.”

  “There probably is,” she countered complacently. “Not that he’s looking for a replacement for his wife. He’s just looking to kick up his heels a bit, to start living again. It’s been lonely for him these past two years.”

  Jake regarded her intently. “You know about his plans, don’t you?”

  Annie promptly looked guilty. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I figured that didn’t include you, since you’re mixed up in this. If you ask me, he’s acting like an old fool, no disrespect intended.”

  Jake opened his mouth to protest, but Annie waved him off.

  “Not that I don’t want you to have this place,” she said. “I know how hard you’ve worked for it and how badly you want to own it. But Mr. Wilde is going off without a thought in his head about what’s to come of his girls. He’s shirking his responsibilities, if you ask me.”

  “Her father’s trying to get Dani settled down before he goes. Ashley’s already successful doing exactly what she always wanted.”

  “And what about Sara?” Annie demanded. “What does he have planned for her? This ranch is the only thing that girl has ever cared two hoots about. Is she supposed to trail along with him to Arizona? Or maybe go work for some other rancher? He’s just assuming she’ll marry one day, but what if she doesn’t?”

  “She’ll always have a place here,” Jake said impulsively.

  Annie’s eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that she knows this ranch inside out. If she wants to stick around, she can work for me.”

  Annie hooted at that. “You expect her to hire on as a hand on the ranch that should have been left to her? Her pride will never let her do that and you know it.”

  Jake shrugged. “I’m just saying the option’s there if she wants it.”

  “Well, if that was supposed to reassure me, it doesn’t. I suppose I’m the one who’s going to have to sit Mr. Wilde down and explain his responsibilities to him.”

  “Invite me along,” Jake suggested. “I’d like to hear that. It should be better entertainment than what the Old West Grill puts on on Saturday night.”

  The sudden bellowing of his name prevented Jake from going on.

  “Dammit, boy, stop hanging out in the kitchen and get in here,” Trent shouted. “We’ve got to look over these papers the attorney left yesterday. I thought you were anxious to get things settled.”

  Jake glanced back at Annie, whose expression had turned resigned. “It’s too late, Annie, my love. This horse is out of the barn.”

  Her chin thrust out stubbornly. “You’re discounting my powers of persuasion and the love that man has for his daughters. Once he sees what he’s doing to Sara, he’ll change his mind.”

  Something ran cold deep inside Jake at the conviction in her voice. “Never,” he said, equally adamant.

  He walked out of the kitchen before Annie could say anything that might convince him that she had the power to do what none of the rest of them could…change Trent Wilde’s mind.

  * * *

  Sara’s butt felt as if she’d been paddled with a two-by-four. The expression “eat dirt” had taken on new meaning. In fact, she’d hit the ground so hard her teeth had rattled.

  The horse responsible was now munching on hay as calmly as if he’d spent the morning loafing in his stall. He hadn’t even worked up a good lather.

  She eyed the big roan balefully. She had a feeling she could grow to despise the beautiful creature before this was over. And he was the most docile in Zeke’s barn or so he claimed. She’d barely settled in the saddle before he’d launched her in the air with no more than a violent kick of those powerful back legs.

  “That’s it for the day,” Zeke said, offering a hand to drag her to her feet.

  Sara ignored it and leapt up. “Come on, Zeke. One more time.”

  “Girl, you got more grit than sense,” Zeke told her, shaking his head.

  “Somehow that sounds like a compliment, when you say it,” Sara retorted. “Please, one more time.”

  “Nope. You’ll be sore enough as it is. Git on home and soak in a hot tub filled with some Epsom Salts. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

  Since it seemed unlikely she was going to change his mind, Sara gave up. How had she managed to surround herself with such stubborn males? Was she ever likely to be able to do things her own way again?

  That’s what the bet was all about, she reminded herself sternly. Once she beat Jake and owned Three-Stars outright, she would never have to answer to anyone again.

  Keeping that goal in mind was all that had gotten her through this first painful, humiliating lesson. She might have been thoroughly discouraged by her inability to remain on the horse for more than a nanosecond, if Zeke hadn’t been so lavish with his praise. He was a great instructor—tough, but quick to point out the minute successes, rather than the obvious failures.

  “Was Jake this bad when he started?” she asked, despite her determination not to pry for information about the man who’d practically kissed her senseless a few hours earlier.

  Zeke hesitated, avoiding her gaze. When he finally looked at her, he said, “I won’t lie to you. Jake was a natural. But being a winner is as much about character as it is about inborn skill. I can teach you the skills, but if you don’t have the will to stick with it, nothing I show you is going to help.”

  “I’m not giving up,” Sara said grimly.

  Zeke nodded approvingly. “Never thought you would. See you again first thing tomorrow, though I’m predicting that a few hours from now you’re going to hate me for putting your body through this torture. You’ll be ready to go check yourself into some fancy spa where they can pamper you.”

  “Never,” she promised. A few aches and pains were a small price to pay for Three-Stars.

  By the time she got back to the ranch, though, she was beginning to have little twinges in every muscle she possessed. She didn’t hate Zeke at that moment, but she was beginning to reassess her opinion of him. It was entirely possible that he was some sort of evil sadist, who thrived on inflicting pain.

  She was limping toward the house, when she spotted Jake. Before she could make an agonizing dash from view, he caught sight of her. She forced herself to straighten up and walk as if she were in perfect health.

  “How’d the first lesson go?” he asked.

  Sara plastered on her very brightest smile. She knew the value of psychological warfare as well as anyone. “Terrific. Zeke says this is going to be a breeze. He claims I’m a natural, practically as good as you were when you started.”

  The stark lie didn’t appear to fool Jake.

  �
��Oh, really?” he said skeptically. He reached for her left hand and examined it with painstaking intensity. “No bruises. No raw spots. That must mean the reins didn’t stay wrapped around your hand for long.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “Take any spills?”

  “Not a one,” she lied.

  “Then I guess you must have been rolling around in the dirt just for fun.” He reached over and brushed a streak of dust from her shoulder. He was aiming for another one on the seat of her jeans, when she backed out of reach.

  “The horse must have been kicking up more dirt than I realized,” she said. “Excuse me, but I’m going in to check my messages and clean up a little.”

  His eyes sparked with mischief. “Now why do I find that image so fascinating?”

  “Because you’re depraved,” she suggested sweetly and stalked away.

  Jake’s voice followed her. “If you expect to move later, a long hot bath would be in order.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “I could come inside and run it for you.”

  “In your dreams. Besides, I have chores to do. I’ll shower later.”

  An hour later, after running a brush through her hair and washing the dirt off her face, Sara could already feel her muscles stiffening. She eyed her tub longingly, but reminded herself she didn’t dare let Jake see any hint of weakness. If she didn’t show up to clean out the stalls and feed the horses this afternoon, he would know that the lesson had gotten to her. She dragged herself out to the barn, wincing with every step.

  The instant she saw him, though, she forced herself to move with a normal stride.

  Jake leaned back against the gate to an unoccupied stall and surveyed her from head to toe. “You cleaned up pretty good. How’re you feeling?”

  “I told you before, I’m just fine,” she snapped, reaching for a broom. The effort very nearly brought tears to her eyes. Aside from the bumps and bruises she’d discovered when she’d peeked under her clothes, her arms and shoulders felt as if she’d tried to tug a speeding train to a halt.

  Jake just stood where he was and observed every move she made. It forced her to keep up the pretense long past the time when any sane person would have given up and begged for some soothing liniment and a massage.

  “Give me that,” Jake finally said irritably. He snatched the broom from her. “Go on inside and rest.”

  Sara tried to drag it back, but her muscles protested vehemently. She was forced to relinquish the broom, along with the first little sliver of her pride. She wondered how much more Jake would claim before they were done.

  “You could do me a favor,” he said as he swept.

  “What?”

  “If you’re not too beat, take a look at the books for me. There’s a mistake in there somewhere, but I’ll be damned if I can find it.”

  Suspicious, Sara regarded him intently. “Is there really a mistake or is this just your way of giving me desk duty for the afternoon?”

  “Trust me, there’s a mistake. I figure fresh eyes might be able to find it. You’re better with numbers than I am anyway.”

  For some reason the scant praise pleased her far more than it should have. It also made her wonder a little wistfully if she and Jake might not have made good partners, if things had been different.

  She glanced up and realized that Jake had stopped sweeping. His gaze was fixed on her. The intense expression in his eyes was enough to set off that unfamiliar trembling in the pit of her stomach all over again.

  “I’ll get right on it,” she promised, heading for the house.

  “If you find it, dinner’s on me,” he called after her.

  Stunned by the apparent invitation, Sara turned back to stare. “Are you asking me out?”

  He shrugged, but his bold gaze remained riveted on her. “I’m offering you a bribe for doing the books,” he corrected.

  Sara nodded. “As long as we’re clear about it.”

  “I always try to make my intentions crystal clear, sweetheart.”

  Sara’s breath snagged in her throat. She wondered if he knew that the look in his eyes indicated far different intentions than his words had.

  * * *

  Jake wasn’t sure what had possessed him to ask Sara to dinner. Maybe it was a perverse reaction to Annie’s warning to steer clear of her. Maybe it was admiration for the way she’d tackled her chores even though she was visibly sore and exhausted.

  Or maybe it was simply the fact that now that he’d noticed her as a woman, his hormones had kicked in with predictable results. On a purely physical level he wanted her and dinner was a prelude to getting what he wanted. Flirting and seduction were second nature to him. He could no more have ignored that pull than his horse could resist nosing his pockets in search of sugar.

  He had no doubt that dinner was a done deal, either. There had been no false flattery in his claim that Sara was a whiz with the books. He lost patience when the mistakes weren’t obvious, but she was content to fiddle with the numbers like a skein of twisted yarn until she found the right thread to untangle the puzzle.

  Showered and changed, Jake went up to the main house. He used the separate entrance to the office Trent had created specifically for him and decorated with family cast-off furniture. It was next to his own. Sara was in there as often as Jake was, though it was doubtful her father knew that.

  Jake loved this room even more than his boss’s larger office. Panelled in rich, dark wood, one wall was filled with bookcases, another with a huge painting of a rodeo rider that managed to capture every bit of the agony and joy of the sport. That painting reminded Jake of the difficult path he’d chosen and the rewards that were finally within reach.

  The scarred desk and ancient leather chair had the look of well-used heirlooms, something that had been in short supply in Jake’s life. When Trent had offered to replace both with something newer and fancier, Jake had declined.

  He loved rubbing his fingers over the nicks and scratches in the desk and thinking of the men who’d used it before him. When he sank into the chair, he couldn’t help thinking of its history and wondering if Trent Wilde’s ancestors would have been proud to claim a man like him, as his own father wasn’t.

  Frank Dawson had never even bothered to come to the rodeo to see him ride. And if he had, Jake conceded ruefully, he probably would have been blind drunk anyway.

  This room, which had once been used for little more than storage for the bigger office beyond, suited him. Amidst its very masculine, solid decor, he could make believe that he was a man of substance, a man without pretense, when the exact opposite was true. Here he could achieve some vague sense of what it might have been like to have a proud history. Trent might dismiss the furnishings as little more than old junk, but Jake thought otherwise.

  The only modern concession in the room was the computer. That was where he expected to find Sara, her brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she studied the screen.

  Instead, she was curled up in the matching leather chair by the fire, her eyes closed. The image brought a smile to his lips. Finding Sara snuggled into one of his chairs was getting to be a habit, one he could get used to, he feared.

  Drawn despite himself, he crossed the room silently and stood over her. She’d showered and changed since he’d seen her. Her cheek was flushed where it rested against her arms. Her hair, that glorious tangle of fire, was dangerously beguiling. Her lashes feathered against her cheeks in dark smudges that seemed tipped in gold.

  Something hard and cold inside him melted at the sight. The sensation shook him as nothing else in his life ever had. This thing with Sara was a familiar game, nothing more, he vowed silently.

  To prove it, he moved to his desk and focused on the computer screen, pretending she wasn’t even in the room.

  Within minutes, he knew it was no use. He was aware of her with every fiber of his being. Much later, he knew the precise instant when she stirred.

  Glancing sidew
ays he saw her eyelids flutter, then open. A vision of her in bed, coming sleepily, sexily awake in his arms ripped through him. It was so vivid, so real that his blood heated and surged through him, leaving him aching in a way that would, no doubt, keep him awake half the night.

  He shifted uncomfortably and drew her startled gaze.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured sleepily. “I must have fallen asleep. When did you get here?”

  “A couple of hours ago,” Jake said, concentrating very hard on calming his rampaging hormones.

  “And you just let me sleep?”

  “It seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.”

  Her lips curved. “I’m disappointed, Jake. I was so certain you were no gentleman.”

  The taunting remark stirred his passion and his temper in equal measure. “You’re doing it again,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  “Doing what?”

  “Trying to provoke me.”

  She blinked, her expression so innocent he could almost believe it wasn’t an act.

  “How?” she asked.

  “By throwing all those innuendoes and subtle dares in my face. I’m warning you, you’re flirting with disaster, sweetheart.”

  Her grin then was slow and deliberate and very definitely provocative. “Oh, dear, and here I thought I was flirting with you.”

  The taunt made Jake’s head spin. He was on his feet in a heartbeat, across the room in two.

  And then Sara was in his arms, her body crushed against his as his mouth plundered hers. She might have been exhausted. Hell, she might have been half asleep, but she came fully awake at once.

  Jake’s intentions might have been to shock and take, but he was the one who wound up surprised. Sara gave everything to that kiss, willingly, eagerly.

  They were both breathing hard when Jake finally pulled away and shook his head to clear it. He gazed into green eyes that sparked with passion and questions.

  Questions he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—answer.

  “It would be a disaster,” he muttered, half to himself.